


Memini

by natsora



Series: Rowan's Eagle [3]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Electroconvulsive Therapy, F/F, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Temporary Amnesia, Whump, ect - Freeform, medical whump, non-con medical treatment, unethical medical practise, unethical medical treatment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23786197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsora/pseuds/natsora
Summary: Memini > Latin for I remember.Waking up bound and gagged with no memory of how it happened is a sure sign of a concussion or worse. But before Ryder could piece her threadbare memories back together, the door opens and a strange turian is shove in. Who is her new roommate and what the fuck is going on?
Relationships: Vetra Nyx/Female Ryder | Sara
Series: Rowan's Eagle [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624186
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Memini

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt fill for Bound and Gagged for BlueTeaParty, Female Ryder and Vetra Nyx_

“Watch out! They’re heading right for us!” A voice echoed in Ryder’s head. She jerked upright only to be brought up short, slamming back down again. Frowning, she twisted around to find she was unable to. Worse, there was a foul rag stuffed into her mouth, and a tape wrapped around her face, holding it in. All she could manage were angry groans and wriggles. 

_What happened?_

Try as she might to dredge through her memory, it was coming up as empty as Voeld was of warmth. The voice that woke her up had disappeared like the morning mists of Eos. She frowned, trying hard to summon her biotics but found it gone. Fear laced through her tongue, bitter and sharp as her breath quickened. She was never without her biotics, never. 

_What the fuck happened?_

Eyes darting about the dim room, she found it void of any discernible furniture. She was cuffed to a pipe in a corner. The room was only lit by the orange glow of omni-cuffs securing her arms behind her back and her ankles together. She struggled anew, her shoulders and elbows screamed in protest. 

_Where the fuck am I?_

Before she had a chance to study her environment, she heard heavy boots approaching with even steps. Whoever it was they weren’t scared or in a hurry. Her nostrils flaring, she felt the lost of her biotics keenly. The door clanked opened, its hinges groaning. Wherever she was, this wasn’t any regular Initiative pre-fab. Light pierced the dim space she was held in. She flinched.

“Ryder, how are you feeling?” the voice was gentle and calm as the light swung into her face, turning her vision white. 

All she could do was growled angrily in response. 

“Oh shit, sorry,” the voice said, before a hand cupped the bottom of her face tightly while the other undid the tape that was holding the foul rag in. 

The tape came off with a rip, yanking skin and fine hairs off her face. She yelped. “What the fuck am I doing here, bound and fucking gagged?” she demanded. “And can you get the fucking light out of my face?”

“Oh sorry,” the light was swung down to her legs. And she blinked hard to get rid of the after image. The man, she was sure now, was still a vague dark shape in front of her. “You were disorientated earlier and the guards didn’t know what to do. So we had you cuffed and gagged and let the madness run its course.”

“Madness?” Her frown deepened. She loosed the first stupid joke that came to her mind. “I was drunk or something? Did I try to dance around naked or what?”

“Yes, I mean no,” the man shook his head, confused by the sharp turns her mind took. “But you were affected by some local toxins. It caused hallucinations and disorientation. We didn’t want to hurt you so you were tied up and we allowed to let the toxins run its course.”

Now that the man mentioned it, her head was pounding like she had been drinking all night. Her temples were particularly sore. She grunted. “So now can you untie me?”

He nodded and tapped his omni-tool. The cuffs powered down with a whine. She rubbed her wrists, rolling her shoulders to ease the persistent ache in her abused joints. 

“Can you stand?” the man asked, holding his hand out for her, his voice quiet and gentle. He seemed trustworthy, but there was an itch at the back of her mind telling not to. 

She grunted and rose to her feet, refusing his outstretched hand. Her joints were stiff. How long had she been sitting there? Hours? Days? Bracing herself against the wall, she managed a couple of wobbly steps. The man dropped his hands and sighed. “I’m sorry you had such rough treatment, but we really didn’t know what to do. I should really be taking you to the doctor so he call check on your vitals.”

Ryder gave him a flat stare. “I want information and I want it now.”

The man raised his hands up in surrender. “What do you remember?”

She blinked. And a chasm opened up at her feet. _What do I remember?_ The ache throbbing at her temples intensified. It was like electricity applied to her brain, she stiffened and gasped, pressing a hand against her head. The base of her neck grew warm, uncomfortably so, sending shocking jolts into her skull. 

The man was quick to take her weight. He was all that kept her from falling flat on her face. “You’re not well. I think you should rest. I’ll get the doc to check on you.”

Despite the tightening of her skull, she growled, “Where am I?”

“You’re safe. You’re safe now. Just relax. We’ll take care of it.”

Maybe it was coincidence, maybe it was magic, or the man’s voice just had a hypnotic quality. Ryder’s consciousness faded. Awareness ebbed and flowed like the receding tide. Hands grabbed at her, some rougher than others as her head lolled without support. 

“The treatment is taking. I’ll let the doc know.” someone said, their voice far away and echoing. 

More motion, more jostling and eventually she laid against something softer than the hard floor she sat bound and gagged against. A thin sheet was pulled up to her waist. 

“Doc’s here.” one of them announced. 

Shadows danced over her half lidded eyes. She groaned, a soft sound of pain as she struggled towards full consciousness. 

“Let’s have a look,” a new voice said, it was deep and gruffer. A cuff was wrapped around her arm. It tightened and relaxed in degrees while a hand brushed her hair from her face. 

The gruff voice hummed satisfactorily. “Her vitals are strong. And Kevin reported that jogging her memory seemed to trigger a pain response. The treatment is taking, but to be safe, we should conduct a couple more courses of treatment.”

“Will she remember any of this?” the first voice asked. “I mean she is still conscious, Doc.”

 _Kevin, that’s Kevin._

The gruff voice chuckled. “She won’t. This will all fade when she next wakes. But it’s a side effect of her treatment.”

A third voice asked, a woman this time, “What about the other one?”

Kevin snorted, a rough noise of disgust. “The others are questioning her. We’ll see what information she has and then we get rid of her.”

“Wait,” Doc interjected. “Don’t get rid of her yet. I want to make sure our treatments are taking. Bring her here when you’re done.”

“Are you sure?” the woman asked. “The other one is linked to the Pathfinder, if…”

The voices continued, back and forth, but Ryder’s tenuous grip on consciousness was fading. If they had more plans, she didn’t hear them. She tried her best to hold onto the information, but they slipped through her fingers like sand. 

* * *

The next time Ryder woke, she was no longer sore. The headache had receded to the back of her skull, mild and irritating but bearable. Running her hands over her face, she swung her legs over and sat up. She realised she was dressed in her under suit. 

_Where’s my armour?_

She sighed. This day couldn’t get any weirder. Frustrated, she pressed her fingers against her temples, begging for her brain to give her something, anything. 

“It’s shore leave,” a voice echoed in her head. Her own. 

Blinking, memory were like clouds floating into view, slow and ever changing with the winds. She remembered declaring shore leave. The Tempest was down for standard maintenance. Gil and Kallo had volunteered to hang around the Nexus to keep an eye on things. “More like they insisted,” she muttered. “I bet they spend all that time bickering like an old couple.” The thought made her sniggered despite her circumstances.

She grunted as she stood, trying to limber up her muscles and get her bearings straight. “Good, this is good. Shore leave, I remember that. But…”

Anxiety tightened across her chest, as if her suit grew three sizes too small. “When was that? How long am I here?” she whispered. 

The empty room held no answers. She glanced around. This looked like a regular pre-fab room. It held two standard human style beds, a table with nothing on it and a chair to go with the table, no windows or no decor of any kind, and a door. But not just any door, it’s an old styled one without a holo-lock. She frowned. “Why would anyone flash-fab an old style door?”

The room remained silent. 

“SAM?” she tried tentatively. 

Her AI too, like the room, did not speak. It was likely that and the large holes in her recollection were connected in some manner. This bothered her greatly, but there was nothing she could do. “Best focus on things I can fix, like getting the fuck out of here.”

Ryder exhaled, long and loud. But before she could try the door knob, it opened. A pair of tall burly turians entered, dragging a third one between them. Whoever it was they were looked barely alive. 

“Got you a room mate,” one of the turians sniggered, hauled the one they were dragging onto the unclaimed bed. “Watch out, she bites.”

His partner laughed. “Kevin will be here to take you for your treatment soon,” one of them tossed over his shoulder as a parting shot. 

With that, the door was clanked shut with a solid thunk. She waited till the footsteps receded out of her earshot before she tried the knob. It wouldn’t budge, it was locked. Trapped, she was fucking trapped. “Shit.”

The wheezing breath from her new roommate tugged her attention away from her predicament. Ryder studied her room mate — a female turian. The distinct lack of the typical long and sharp turian head crest confirmed it.

The turian’s laboured breaths were painfully wet and weak. It spurred Ryder into action. The turian was draped across the bed on her front. To see a turian striped of even the light armour that civilians tended to wear felt wrong. Ryder felt like she was violating the turian’s privacy. The form fitting under suit was stained a deep blue and slashed in so many spots. It’s a wonder it still clung onto the turian. 

“Hey, I’m going to flip you over, I think you’ll breathe easier that way,” Ryder warned before touching the turian. 

The turian was tall. Though they looked lean and lithe, even the males, it was a deception, she knew from experience. Ryder stopped, frowning at the sudden flash of knowledge. _How do I know this?_ She shook her head and turned her focus back to her task. With a grunt, she got her arms under the turian and pushed. The moan that spilled out of the turian was heartbreaking, and it sliced right to her core. Ryder filed the fact away. Her priority was to make sure the turian lay on her back. By the end, both of them were panting hard and heavy, the turian from injuries, her from her exertions. 

If Ryder thought the wounds on the turian’s back was bad, her front was worse. Plates scored with deep marks, as if someone took a knife to the plates in an attempt to burrow right down to the turian’s heart. Where plates were unmarks, they were broken, splintered into pieces. And the problem was rapidly clear to her. The rattling noise the turian made when she breathed was merely a symptom to a larger, more serious problem.

Turians had plates and tough hides to protect their organs but when they were broken like hers were, they turned into a cage, squeezing and putting stress on already overloaded organs. Ryder could see a piece was dislocated. If she could just pull it into place…

Ryder couldn’t help wondered why she knew so much about turian’s anatomy. Was it simply part of her training as prep for arriving in Andromeda?

She touched the turian’s arm gently. The turian flinched away, a whimper escaped mouth plates clamped tight. 

“I’m trying to help,” she explained gently.

“No, please. Stop, no more. Please,” the turian rasped, struggling weakly, arms flailing wildly. 

The turian might be weakened, but her talons remained sharp. Ryder’s attempts to hold her still, to keep her from further injuring herself ended with scratched up arms. She backed off, hissing as the tracks of blood ran down her arms. The turian stilled, chest heaving. 

Grimacing, it was clear the turian had been tortured mercilessly. There was nothing she could do. The turian needed medical attention and soon. Jaw tight, Ryder reached inwards for her biotics again. The well within her core remained disturbingly empty. 

She couldn’t look away from the turian. Her chest ached in a way she couldn’t understand. Eyes tracing the swooping mandibles that hugged the turian’s face, a sure sign of pain barely held in. The sharp double purple lines that started at the turian’s forehead, slashing down her face diagonally, it was all unfamiliar but yet… Ryder couldn’t shake the intensifying ache in her chest. 

The turian peeled her eyes opened, pain glazed but still keen and sharp. “Ryder?” her dual-flanged voice buzzed with exhaustion. 

“You know me?”

The turian stiffened as if slapped. “Don’t you know me?” her voice laced with confusion and hurt. 

Ryder stared at the turian, taking in those steel green eyes, purple colony markings, dull red hide of her neck and the unique shape of her mandibles. Nothing rang a bell, nothing was familiar. A spike of pain roared to life in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, groaning and sinking to her knees. A high whine filled her ears and her vision turned a blinding white. 

The bed creaked as the turian shifted, gasping in pain. Before Ryder could waved the turian off, the door opened and people flooded in. “Get her to the treatment room!” Kevin barked. 

Hands slipped around her and they dragged her onto a gurney. She didn’t have the strength to protest through the haze, all she could do was let them strap her in. Through half lidded eyes, she could see the turian bristling at the men. 

“Let her go! Let Ryder go, take me instead!” she cried over and over. The men just shoved her back onto the bed. 

Kevin’s face loomed over Ryder’s. A hand brushed the side of her face. “Don’t worry, the doctor will know what to do.” He turned to the others handling the gurney and snapped. “Get her there now!”

Ryder propped herself up on her elbow as much as the straps allowed, she shouted, “Who are you?” She could barely see through the sharp stabs into her skull, but she felt it when the turian’s eyes locked with hers. 

“Vetra! My name is Vetra Nyx, Ryder!”

The name meant nothing to Ryder. There was an empty void where the shape of the name used to fit. And a sharp jolt squeezed her temples and all thought fled. She collapsed onto the gurney, shaking and moaning, beyond caring where the men took her. 

* * *

Voices drifted in and out of her awareness. The vice clamped around in her head relaxed and the pain faded to a dull ache. She kept her eyes closed, even the slightest pinprick of light intensified the pain and she didn’t want to invite that monster back. The gurney came to a stop. 

  
“Doc, your patient’s here.” Kevin said. “She had another attack.”

A gruff voice grunted and said, “Get her on the table. It’s time for her treatment anyway.”

The straps were undone and she was shifted to a cold and hard metal surface. She groaned, lifting a hand to cover her eyes. 

“Ahhh, Ryder,” the gruff voice said. “I’m sorry if you’re a little light sensitive now. It’s a common side effect from the treatment.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re at a treatment facility. Your condition is a little unique,” his voice twisted at the last word as if it was amusing. “How rude of me. I hadn’t introduced myself. My name is Hopkins. And I’m the doctor in charge of your case.”

Ryder grunted but kept her hand over her eyes. A hand tugged her free one to lay perpendicular to her body. A soft cuff was wrapped around her wrist. Her eyes snapped open as she jerked her head to look. “What the fuck are you doing?” The light made her hiss, squeezing her eyes shut again. 

Someone else took hold of her other hand and strapped it down. Her ankles were nudged apart and similarly secured. Ryder tugged and pulled, but there was no getting free. A presence loomed over, evaluating her like a piece of meat, deciding which parts are the prized cuts. Tentatively she peeled one eye open to look. All she saw was a blurry figure, making out a bald head and a pair of calculating bright blue eyes before she was forced to close them again. 

“Why, Ryder, I’m just trying to treat you. These restraints are for your own safety. It wouldn’t do to have you jerk around during the treatment.”

“Where’s Lexi? Where are the others? Why am I here? What are you treating me for?” Question after question spilled from her lips as fear tightened her chest. 

“Your psychosis is worsening,” Hopkins tsked. “I had hope the treatment would have taken by now. It seems I have to step it up.”

He moved away and the large surgical lamp hanging over her flared to life. Ryder twisted her head as the light seared past squeezed shut eyelids, shuddering as pain rode up her neck and into her skull. A hand came down on her head, forcing it to one side, exposing the back of her neck. A sharp prick and a rush of cold made her yelp. 

“What the fuck?”

“That’s a precaution.”

Rough hands held her head in a neutral position and a strap was tightened over her forehead. She fought, she really tried, but the stabbing agony in her head had leached all strength from her body. Without biotics, she couldn’t brute force her way out, she could find no leverage on the restraints to free herself. 

Panic was making her hyperventilate and a mask was quickly strapped to her face, muffling her protests, feeding her air. Opening her eyes were out of the question and so she listened. Every noise was a danger she tried to flinch out of the way, but there was no escape. 

A cuff was wrapped around her left upper arm and inflated. She could feel her pulse throbbing hard and fast underneath it. The zip that ran down the middle of her under suit was pulled down to her belly. Hands tugged at the skin tight flaps, exposing the sports bra she wore underneath. Cold electrodes were placed on her chest. A frantic beeping filled the air. 

Hopkins kept up a string of instructions for his assistants as machines were wheeled towards her. A needle pricked at the crook of her elbow and warmth left her arm. Eventually the bustle calmed and Hopkins’s voice came from over her head. 

“You might be named Ryder but you’re not the Pathfinder. You had a severe psychotic break from stress. You’ve latched on to a fantasy and have illusions of grandeur. So this treatment is to rid your mind of these wrongful thoughts.”

Ryder stilled, the beep of her lurching and galloping heart filled the space. _Could it be?_

“You think you’re a biotic but you’re not. 

“I am!” she insisted through the mask. 

Hopkins sighed, a sound that’s long suffering as if this was a conversation they had many times over. “Prove it to me then. You say you’re a biotic. Prove me to then.”

She was tempted to open her eyes and glared at him. _Fine, I’ll fucking prove it to him._ Jaw set, she reached deep towards her core, towards the well that always brimmed full and overflowing. Down, down and down, there was nothing but a deep gaping hole — nothing. 

“Hmmm? I’m still waiting here,” Hopkins said, his foot tapping against the tiled floor. The sound echoing against the walls. 

“This doesn’t prove anything!” 

“Nothing? I thought so,” he went on, her angry shouts throughly muffled by the mask he was pressing into her face. “You’re not accepting facts. But that’s not your fault. You’re sick. You can’t be blamed for being sick. But it’s my job to treat you. I’m your doctor, you’re my patient.”

“I’m not sick!” she cried, shaking as hard as she could. The beeping shrieked loud and insistent. 

Hopkins brushed her hair from her sweat soaked forehead and went on with his preparation. He pressed five cold gel tabs along her hairline. No amount of shaking could dislodge them, not with the strap keeping her head still. Something was clipped to the ends of each tab, weighing them down. A machine was turned on somewhere behind her. A hum filled the room. The mask was removed. A pair of gloved hands pressed against her cheeks trying to force her mouth open. 

She twisted and chomped down when a finger strayed close. A yelp came from Hopkins and satisfaction filled her chest. “Let me go.”

“You fucking bit me. I was just trying to help you. It seems your treatment isn’t taking. We shall need to up your dosage,” he growled. “Kevin, open her mouth.”

A pair of feet approached. 

“Put on those gloves, this is a sterile environment.” 

She opened her eyes when the snap of latex made her flinched. The light was barely bearable. Kevin was a blurry mess, her eyes watering from the pain. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pinched her nose shut and applied pressure on her cheeks. 

Try as she might to hold her mouth closed, she had to breathe. When she opened her mouth to take a deep breath, a bite block was roughly shoved in. Kevin bent over and spoke next to her ear. “Bite down on it. Please. It’s better that way.”

Fear rode up her chest, squeezing her lungs and setting her heart slamming against her ribs. Tears were spilling from her eyes as she fought to free herself. 

“Commencing treatment,” Hopkins announced. 

Somewhere out of her sight, behind her, a button was depressed. The humming turned into a high pitched whine and it filled Ryder’s ears. Electricity ran down the wires attached to the tabs at her head. It coursed through her skin into her head, muscles clenched so tight her jaw couldn’t even open to scream. She rocked and shook as her vision turned white and black. A stench of urine filled the air. It was a split second, it was eternity. She couldn’t tell. And there was nothing she could do but ride the wave of sheer agony. 

Her awareness dimmed like a filament bulb dying, flickering valiantly trying to stay lit. The bite block was yanked from her slack mouth. The oxygen mask quickly replaced it. Words were traded between Hopkins and Kevin. She couldn’t understand a single word. It took everything in her willpower to remain dimly aware of her surroundings. 

“She soiled herself,” Kevin pointed out, his voice stretching and undulating in odd ways. 

“It’s to be expected. I’m surprised she didn’t the last time,” Hopkins replied. “To be safe, let’s do this a couple more times. Our enemy is insidious. I won’t rest until we’ve rid it from her mind.”

“I agree. I don’t know what the Initiative was thinking when they allowed this.”

A grunt and more instruments clanked behind Ryder. Her eyes fluttered open and shut as her body twitched and shook under the straps. Without them she’d fallen off the table by now. The mask was ripped off her face and the bite block shoved in. Fear rose and she struggled. “No,” she moaned around the thick rubber bite guard, drooling as she did so. 

As she gathered the shattered pieces of her mind, the hum turned into a sharp whine and all thoughts ceased. Nerve endings laid exposed, rubbed raw and she faded, descending into merciful darkness. 

* * *

Ryder groaned as her eyes fluttered opened before sagging shut again. Her head hurt, a solid bass line beating at the rate of her pulse had taken up residence inside her skull. 

_What happened?_

Her mouth dry, her throat raw and there was an odd taste of rubber on her tongue. With a grimace, she twisted her neck and forced her eyes open. Vaguely at the back of her mind, she was bracing herself for the light to send lances of pain into her head. But that never happened. The light was dim.

“You’re awake?” a voice rasped. “Thank the spirits.”

Ryder frowned, propping herself up onto her elbow. Her hands found rough fabric on her chest and thighs. Gone was her under suit. _Was I wearing one before?_ Instead, she was dressed in a generic set of white zip up jacket and sweat pants. She didn’t need to peer down the loose jacket to know she wasn’t wearing any undergarments beneath. 

“This is the worst hangover ever,” she groaned. “Is this some kind of jail? Did I break someone’s head open or what?”

“Hangover?” the other voice rasped, there was wheezing quality to it. “What did they do to you? You were out for hours, Ryder.”

 _Hours?_ Had it been that long? Her thoughts were loose sand scattered. Her memories had been strung up on a kite, and it’s whipping about in the wind. All it took was a strong gust and the string was ripped from her hands. And her mind buzzed angrily, it was impossible to gather her memories.

“Yes, hours.”

_Fuck I said that out loud._

“And you did that again,” the voice said. 

Ryder growled in frustration, pushing to her feet. Her legs were unsteady, but they held. Everything was sore, it’s as if she had been running 20 klicks in full heavy armour with a full pack strapped to her like back in boot camp. 

Casting her eyes about, she found the voice who had been speaking to her. A female turian laid on the other bed. Ryder frowned at the blue that coated everything. It was all over the turian’s under suit, soaking into the sheets of the bed. 

She cast a critical eye at the turian and saw many dislocated and broken plates. Shoving her need to know how the turian knew her aside, she focused instead on rendering first aid. But there was nothing in the room, just two fucking beds and a door. 

Raising her hand she pounding hard on the solid metal door. The noise echoed down a corridor outside. That did nothing and brought nobody. She tried the old styled door knob next. It jiggled but it didn’t budge. _Locked, fucking locked._ “Hey! Fucking hell, someone needs medical attention here!”

Silence met her shouts. Ryder did the next thing that came naturally. She reached towards her core but she stopped, aborting the action. _I don’t have biotics. What I am doing?_ Regardless how natural the inward drawing of energy, the seeking out towards her eezo nodes was, there was nothing to draw on because she wasn’t a biotic. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_

Sighing, she approached. The purple lines that swooped down the turian’s face looked oddly familiar. There was an itch in her mind she couldn’t reach. But focusing on it made the pounding on her head intensified. She pressed a hand against her temples, a sharp spike of pain stabbed her skull. Shying away from thinking about it too much, she turned her attention back to the turian. 

“What the fuck happened to you? Why do you know my name?” she demanded, pain turning her tone all raw and harsh. 

The turian’s mouth plates twitched agitatedly at her question, mandibles sagging seemingly from despair. “You really do not remember?” her dual-flanged voice buzzed with emotions barely held back. 

Ryder frowned, ignoring those sad steel green eyes. She worried that, if she thought about it too much, the pain would return. Instead, she saw the dislocated plate that was pressing against the turian’s chest. It must be causing her a lot of pain just to simply breathe. 

“I can help pull the dislocated plate back into position,” Ryder said, looking everywhere except the turian’s eyes. “But it’s going to hurt,” 

“Everything hurts already anyway,” the turian pointed out flatly. 

Her heart made an odd lurch at the quip, it felt oddly reassuring, but turning her thoughts that way only turned her headache up to eleven. Jaw set, she gestured towards the dislocated plate, “I’m going to touch you, keep your talons to yourself ok?”

“I’ll try,” the turian promised through tight mouth plates. 

Still, Ryder was keenly aware of the sharp talons pressed flat against the thin mattress. One swift stab and she could be bleeding out. It’s only a possibility, she could sense the resolve in the turian’s words. And deep down, Ryder trusted her. It’s a trust she couldn’t explain. After all, this was the first time she laid eyes on the turian despite the turian seemingly knowing everything about her.

“Ok, brace yourself.”

“Vetra, my name is Vetra.”

Ryder lifted her head and their eyes met. Vetra’s steel green ones darted left and right, seeking something in hers. But whatever she wanted, it wasn’t there. Disappointment, grief and despair flickered across Vetra’s eyes. Ryder was convinced if turians could cry, she’ll be crying. 

“Vetra,” Ryder said, forming the word in her mouth. It was a comfortable shape, a reassuring sound but foreign and strange. 

Vetra tried to sit up, drawn in by the sound of her name, her mandibles slack as if hopeful for a change in Ryder, for her to jump in the air and scream in joy, for a recognition of the name and the turian before her eyes. There was none, nothing was a big black hole in her memory. 

_How did I get here? Why am I here? Who is this turian? And what the fuck is going on?_

The headache pounding hard against the back of her eyelids. Ryder groaned, pressing so hard against her temples, the skin was indented. 

“What the fuck did they do to you?” Vetra hissed. 

She shook her head, blinking back the pain. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” The confession was met by stifled silence. She sighed and looked at Vetra. “Let’s just get that plate of yours back in place. You’re not looking too hot yourself.”

Vetra chuckled, like it was some kind of old joke between them. The sound died a premature death when Ryder didn’t join in. Her mandibles clamped tight against the side of her face. She nodded. 

Ryder reached out, fingers gently taking hold of the plate in question. Vetra’s muscles tensed up. She didn’t countdown, she didn’t tell Vetra to get ready. Her fingers tightened and yanked, quick and sharp. Vetra keened. A sound so high, so sharp it sliced right through Ryder’s chest. Talons raked against the mattress, tearing them into shreds. She wrapped her arms gently around Vetra’s shoulder, holding her as her body shuddered with the aftershocks of pain. 

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she whispered. Words she didn’t understand why she spoke them, but they felt right. 

And it seemed to help, Vetra’s breathing wasn’t as laboured and her eyes sagging shut from exhaustion. Ryder pulled away, so that she could sleep more comfortably. But Vetra’s hand clamped down on hers, refusing to let her go. Ryder sighed and sank down to sit on the cold floor. Vetra’s whimpers faded and soon a deep and steady breathing took over. Ryder closed her eyes, head tipped back to rest against the edge of the bed frame. Their hands intertwined, talons between fingers, three versus five. But they fit as if they were never apart before. 

* * *

_Searing._

A scream tore through her throat 

_Burning._

An inferno ignited in her skull. 

_Stabbing._

There was no relief, no amount of struggle that could rid her of the pain. 

She could feel it. Lightning travelling down well worn pathways in her mind, anything it touched was burnt. Visions, sounds and scent, all blackened and turned to ashes. A tentative probe in the stolen memories’ direction made it crumple, sending shrapnels in all directions. 

Retreat. That’s the only way to stay safe. But the pain never really left, it lingered in spots, waiting to pounce, waiting for her to turn her attention to the wrong thing. 

And it would all burst forth again. 

* * *

“Ryder!” 

Her eyes snapped open as she took breath after shuddering breath to calm herself. Something was wrapped around her and she struggled, tugging and pulling before the bonds let go with a stifled cry. 

_Away, away, away!_

She crawled on her hands and knees, stopping only because she had ran out of room. Eyes burning as tears ran down her face, she dashed them away angrily. As she turned around to see what had trapped her, she saw the turian, no Vetra, clutching her side gasping for air. 

“No.” The word hung in the air as regret filled her chest, threatening to form a lump in her throat. Ryder gathered herself to return to Vetra’s side. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Vetra raised an arm and shook her head. “My fault,” she rasped through a grimace. Her mandibles clamped so tight it looked like they’d snap. 

Ryder stood an arm’s length away, guilt radiating from every pore. “I…”

“You were having a nightmare, I shouldn’t have presumed. You don’t… remember after all,” Vetra sank back to the mattress. 

Ryder pursed her lips, the dull throb in her head making itself known again. “Do you know why are we here? Do you know what’s going on?”

Before Vetra could answer, the door swung open. Ryder spun around, arms lifted in a familiar combat stance, standing protectively in front of Vetra. 

Armed personnel stormed in, rifles aimed at them. Ryder’s shoulders tensed. She glared at them, unarmed and decidedly not a biotic, that was all the defences she had. There wasn’t anything she could do against high velocity projectiles. Her body didn’t even have the natural protection Vetra’s had. 

“Hey, hey!” A man rushed in, pushing the muzzles down. “What are you doing? I told you to secure the room not shoot the patient.”

Ryder frowned, he looked familiar but no name came to mind. “Who are you?”

The man blinked. “Kevin, my name is Kevin.” 

She bit her lip. The name made the back of her mind itched, but she shoved it aside. They were better off when she focused on getting them the fuck out of wherever they were. “Ok, Kevin. I need you to let us go.”

He shook his head. “Oh no. You both are patients in our treatment facility.”

“Do you treat patients with rifles?” Ryder snarled. 

“Typically no, but you are both a little special,” Kevin said, attempting a friendly smile as he motioned at someone outside. “I’m here to deliver food.”

A cart was wheeled in and two trays of food were placed on the floor. There were a handful of ration bars and a couple bottles of water. The offering was pitiful if it was meant as a friendly gesture. Ryder stepped cautiously towards it and picked up one of the bars. A quick glance at the ingredients list and she demanded. “Where’s the dextro stuff?”

“Oh, the other patient is due for another treatment, we’re taking her to it.”

“Lies,” Vetra rasped, working herself into a sitting position, her talons gripping her arm tight. “You spoofed a signal to make it look like it came from my sister’s omni-tool and sent a fake message to me. I’m pretty sure you don’t have my sister here. What do you want with us?”

Kevin frowned and shook his head. “The patient’s brain damage is terrible indeed. All these elaborate fantasies she creates, she clearly needs treatment.”

Ryder half turned, her eyes darted between Vetra and Kevin. Confusion and frustration filling her chest. The headache roared to life in her temples. Her skull was caught in a vice and it was hellbent on crushing bone to dust. A hand pressed against her head, her jaw tightened as she tried to master her pain. 

“Ryder, please believe me. I’m not lying. They questioned me over and over about SAM. What are his capabilities? Where is the implant? Where is the AI core?” Vetra continued. Ryder could barely process her words with the heat filling her head. “I couldn’t answer. And they tortured me. Do not believe their lies!”

“Prove it,” Kevin said simply, his hands on his hip, his stance confident. The armed guards chuckled under their breath. “You can’t. That’s because your shuttle crashed and we brought you here for treatment. We’re a colony with barely anything and still we didn’t just rob you of supplies and left you to die. We brought you here for treatment. Instead you refused our aid and—”

Whatever Kevin had wanted to say was erased from Ryder’s mind as she fell to her knees. Her head clenched tight between her hands. Fire rode up her spine into her brain. She was sure her skin was charred, her hair burnt and her brain was boiled. A wordless cry spilled from her throat. “Stop, just stop,” she begged. 

Vetra tried to come to her aid but was immediately forced back at gun point. Instead human arms wrapped around Ryder’s body, carrying her to the other bed. Empty words washed over her, easing nothing, comforting nobody. She peeled an eye open and gripped Kevin’s arm. “I want medi-gel and dextro supplies. If we’re patients, treat us like one,” she moaned through clenched teeth. 

Kevin took a deep breath. “You’re unwell, you should rest. I should give you a sedative, it will help.”

“Dextro supplies,” Ryder growled. The sense of mistrust and danger grew despite the pain, maybe because of it. “Medi-gel.”

“Then, you’ll allow me to administer a sedative?”

Between Kevin and the armed guards that separated Vetra and herself, she could see those steel green eyes imploring her, shaking her head, mandibles fluttering with worry. 

“Fine.” The answer rubbed her throat raw like sandpaper. 

Ryder squeezed her eyes shut, fisting the sheets as she tried to keep from crying out. It was an eternity later when someone returned with the supplies. “See, I don’t break my promises,” Kevin said, handing her a couple of dextro ration bars and medi-gel.

Ryder clutched a bar in her hand, breaking the hard bar under her grip. Kevin pushed her onto her back. Her eyes flashed open. A syringe was hovering over her face. “What is that?” she demanded. 

“The sedative,” he explained. “I’ll need to inject this into your arm. Are you going to fight me?”

Ryder glared at him through pain glazed eyes. Her hands shook as she tried to unzip her jacket. Kevin batted her hands away and undid the jacket completely. She was passed caring her chest was completely bared to a roomful of strangers. He worked one arm from its sleeve. A tingly cool sensation spread across her arm as he cleaned the injection site. Then, a prick before a sharp pain ran down her arm. She groaned. Kevin didn’t bother putting her arm back into its sleeve, instead he pulled the thin sheet that doubled up as a blanket up to her chest. 

“Rest, you need your strength for further treatments.”

Consciousness was a veil pulled over her mind, stilling everything, all thoughts, all pain, all fear. Her eyes were fixed on Vetra’s as sedatives dragged her down into the pits of darkness. 

* * *

Something gentle and soothing was rubbing against Ryder’s hand. Back and forth, back and forth. It drew circles around her knuckles, it traced the thin bones at the back of her hand. Experimentally, she cracked opened one eyelid. A turian with purple lines was sitting next to her bed, her mandibles were hanging low, an air of grief clinging to her. Despite not knowing who the turian was, she felt comforted.

Maybe her breathing changed or it’s just coincidence. The turian lifted her head and looked at her. Her mandibles shifted into a turian smile. Through the void in her memory, a name floated to the surface — Vetra. It felt right, it felt familiar.

“Hey,” the turian cooed. 

Ryder wanted to smile, but her guts clenched tight and churned. Hands against her mouth, she sat up. Without a word, the turian thrusted a bin at her. She heaved. Bile, hot and acidic, burnt her throat as it came up. She clutched the bin as if it was going to keep her afloat as waves of nausea swept over her. 

“Here,” the turian handed her a bottle of water after the bouts of vomiting subsided. 

“Thank you,” she rasped and drank greedily. It eased the rawness of her throat, but it did nothing for the pounding in her skull. “What happened?”

The turian looked at her, those steel green eyes pained and sad. “What do you remember?”

Ryder stared, rubbing her temples, realising she was half dressed. Her jacket hung loose and open, breasts bared. “Not a hangover.”

“Nope,” the turian confirmed, grunting as she stood, stowing the bin away. 

“You’re…” her name trailed off. “Vetra?”

The way the name slipped from her mouth delighted the turian. Clearly, it was her name. Vetra beamed. “Yes, my name is Vetra. And you know who you are?”

“Of course. I’m Ryder,” she retorted, frowning. “And we’re patients? Or something?”

Frustrated, she rubbed her face and zipped her jacket back up. “I asked for medi-gel? I remember something like that.”

Vetra nodded harder. “Yes, yes. You’re remembering. But we’re not patients. We were captured.”

Ryder lifted her head wearily and properly studied Vetra. Her blue crusted under suit looked worse for wear, but the various wounds were coated with medi-gel. “I’m glad they gave us medi-gel.”

“Do you think you can eat?” Vetra asked, offering her a ration bar. “I don’t know how long we’re here, but you haven’t eaten in a long time. It’s not doing you any good. A biotic has to eat.”

“I’m not a biotic though.” As soon as the statement came out of her mouth, it felt wrong. And Vetra’s face told her the same. “I am?”

“Spirits, what did they do to you?” 

Ryder sighed, taking the ration bar from Vetra, the headache was growing again. Unconsciousness was starting to feel preferable. She laid back onto the bed and curled up on her side. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I don’t blame you, I don’t feel great myself.”

Ryder grunted, unwrapping the bar and took a bite. “You look like shit.”

“Way to win a girl’s heart,” the retort came instantly. 

“Well, it’s just you and me here. No competition,” she pointed out. A frown furrowed her brow. The banter felt natural, but she couldn’t remember Vetra. Her first fuzzy memory of Vetra was the beaten up mess before her. She couldn’t even remember how they came to share the same room. 

_Am I a biotic or not? Am I the Pathfinder or not?_

It was impossible to decide what the truth was when her headache was hellbent on turning her brain inside out. Regardless, Ryder knew deep in her bones, this place was wrong. She needed to get out, she needed to get them both out. But with the way she was feeling now, she could not get herself off the bed, let alone figure out what was going on. 

“Come on,” she said, shifting in her bed to create some space. The ration bar consumed, the wrapper tossed carelessly onto the floor. Just the act of eating something eased the pounding in her skull. _Maybe there was just my blood sugar is out of whack?_

Vetra grunted and eased her body onto the bed. Ryder placed a hand on Vetra’s hip, careful not to jostle the various wounds and broken plates. They fit. Soft human flesh and hard turian plates. They shouldn’t, but they did. 

Ryder shifted her hand realising what she had done. “Sorry. I should have asked.”

But before her hand could retreat, Vetra took hold of it and placed it firmly back on her hip. “It’s fine. It… helps.”

“Ok.” her voice small and unsure. Whatever drugs that remained was making her sleepy. After eating, she only grew drowsier. 

“Thank you.”

Ryder grunted a question, eyes closed, nose pressed against Vetra’s neck. 

“For standing up for me,” Vetra explained. Her talons were interlaced with Ryder’s fingers. 

“Did I? I don’t remember,” she muttered, voice muffled and soft. 

Vetra’s grip tightened. A single gesture that carried so much emotions and fear that Ryder stiffened. “I’ll get us out of here, I swear.”

She sighed and snuggled closer, seeking warmth and a solid presence. “We’ll get out of here. I can help too.”

* * *

Despite all of Ryder’s good intentions, they were helpless. Kevin came again and again. Wheeling her away on a gurney, strapping her down on that table, the hum turned into a sharp whine and her head exploded. 

Waking up in the room, again and again, confusion and pain reigned. Watching the strange turian’s pacing worriedly, seeing how her mandibles sagged with disappointment whenever she asked, “Who are you?” never failed to send a stab right to her chest. 

_Vetra, her name is Vetra. Please remember this time. Please._

But no matter how Ryder tried to recall, nothing came. Trying to remember only woke an overwhelming and all-encompassing agony in her head. The strange turian, _Vetra. Vetra! VETRA!_ , would beg for her to stop. But Ryder needed to know, to understand the intense protectiveness she had for Vetra, to find out why it felt right to hold and be held by her. 

_Why is this happening? What’s going on?_

Talons soothed the hurt, running over her shaved head, gentle over the burnt circular spots on her scalp. Her hair was taken after one treatments, she didn’t remember why or how, let alone mourn their loss. Buzzing voice from a dual-flanged throat allayed the pain, but it couldn’t take away the fear. “Will I forget everything?”

Vetra had no answer, just a tightened grip and a mournful keen. “You stupid girl,” Vetra said, “You shouldn’t have protected me.”

“I did?” Voice shaking as she tried to escape into sleep.

“You told them to take you. You told them to leave me alone.”

“I don’t remember,” she confessed. A groan dragged from her throat as she tried to recall. 

“Shhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. I’ll remember for you.” Vetra whispered, voice buzzing in her ear. 

For a long while, neither moved in the small space they had created for themselves. Two beds shoved together, scant comfort in a horrible situation. Two hearts beating, aching and suffering in the same way. 

“I don’t want to forget you,” Ryder confessed. 

“You won’t, you won’t,” Vetra promised, her eyes sharp and determined. “They will come for us. They must.”

“Who?”

“Our friends,” Vetra insisted. 

“I can’t remember.”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

“It’s time for your treatment,” Kevin announced, a pair of armed guards entered to shove Vetra into the corner. 

Ryder peeled her eyes opened. Everything was fuzzy, her vision blurry even in the bright light. The headache was so persistent, it no longer registered beyond the sharp pain when she tried to remember. 

“You know how it goes,” Kevin went on. “Take your injection, get on the gurney. We will leave your friend alone.”

She curled tighter into herself, shifting as far away from Kevin as she could. Knowing what she stood to lose, eyes boring on Vetra’s, it was impossible to be brave. “I’m better. I don’t need anymore treatments.”

“Tell me, are you the Pathfinder?”

She frowned. It’s the way the question was asked rather than Kevin’s demeanour. Clearly, there was a correct answer. But she couldn’t say which Kevin want to hear. 

“I don’t know,” she confessed. 

Kevin nodded, satisfied with the answer. “Are you a biotic?”

She shook her head hesitantly. 

“Answer me this then, who is she?” Kevin stabbed his finger in Vetra’s direction. 

“Vetra, she’s Vetra,” her answers came urgently now. 

“Why do you protect her?”

“She’s…” words trailed off but the sense of protectiveness and rightness of being with Vetra filled her. “She’s mine. I’m hers. That’s why.”

Vetra keened at the admission, hands covering mouth. “Leave Ryder alone! Just leave her alone! What the fuck do you want with her?”

Kevin sighed sadly as if she had failed a test. “Why do you persist in protecting her? This turian, Vetra, as you call her, protects AIs. She defends the use of AI implanted into the heads of organics. It goes against every law we had in the Milky Way.” 

When Kevin grabbed at Ryder’s arm roughly, Vetra surged forward only to stop when rifles shoved her back roughly. 

“What do you say to that?” he demanded, gone was his gentle ways. It was so at odds with what he forced her to submit to. “What do you say to combining AIs with organics?”

“You’re from Knight’s group!” Vetra shouted. “That’s why you lured us here. You wanted to get your hands on Ryder. Spirits, I was so stupid. I thought you were people Sid railed up. And I let Ryder go willingly, to be tortured by you people! What did you do to her?” 

Ryder’s eyes darted between them, her heart was thumping hard and fast, her breathing grew quick and shallow. It was all too much, too fucking much. She screamed as lightning lit up her head. 

“Ryder! Ryder!” Vetra’s voice warred with Kevin’s commands. 

“Get her on the gurney now, she needs treatment. Clearly she hadn’t had enough.”

Hands lifted her up and strapped her in. She writhed. A million needles ran up her neck into her skull as fire burnt her from the inside out. Despite her bonds, her hands reached out towards Vetra. “Don’t let me forget, please,” she begged. 

Her fingers couldn’t reach Vetra. They weren’t even close. Kevin stepped in, blocking her view of Vetra and yanking on the straps so tightly she could hardly breathe. 

“Please, don’t let me forget.”

* * *

By the time Ryder was on the table, Hopkins was ready for her. “Ahhh, my favourite patient. It’s terrible your condition is worsening, we need to take more drastic measures.”

“No,” she moaned, but it was quickly muffled by the mask over her nose and mouth. 

“Prep her,” he barked. 

Then hands tugged at her pants, unzipping her jacket, baring her naked for all to see. Electrodes were quickly stuck onto her chest, a blood pressure cuff wrapped around her arm. A thin sheet pulled over her chest to protect what modesty she had left. She groaned and struggled, but there was only so much strength her weakened body had to offer. Hands forced her knees to bend, forming a butterfly shape, exposing her vagina. 

“No! What are you doing?”

“Why do you always do this every time when you’re here for treatment?”

Panicked thoughts blared in her mind. _This isn’t the first time they did this? How long has this been going on._ “Please stop! No!” It came out all as angry and furious groans. 

A hard and cold tube was forced up her urethra, she gasped. The pain robbed her of breath. It seared up inside her and she shuddered. They took advantage of her sudden docility and taped the excess tube to her thigh before drawing the sheet down to cover her. 

Cold, rubbery tips touched her scalp, it wasn’t the gentleness of Vetra’s talons, they were rough and impatient. “Let’s see where to place the electrodes this time. Damn the Initiative doctors were clever with the implantation of the SAM implant. It’s obviously not near your frontal lobe and we’re tried the cerebral cortex and parietal lobe. Could it be deeper? Your temporal lobe maybe? It is an AI after all, where it’s implanted wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s insidious and would have taken over your mind regardless.” Hopkins mused, running his fingers over her head like it’s a fruit and he was seeking out the rotten spots. 

Tears streamed down her face as the assistants strapped her arms and legs down. Additional straps went over her chest and forehead holding her still for what’s to come. _Please, I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget Vetra._ Ryder clung onto the vision of Vetra in her mind’s eye like a child would a teddy bear. _Vetra…_

“If it’s placed deeper inside your brain, then maybe the voltage hadn’t been enough to eradicate the problem. After all, we’ve seen vast improvements since you’ve arrived.”

_Vetra, Vetra, VETRA!_

She could feel the sticky, cool gel of electrode pads pressed onto her scalp, fingers brushing against the short and uneven stubble of her shaved head. Pads were stuck on spots that bore burnt marks of treatments past, on spots where the skin was new and yet unmarred. 

The sharp buzzing hum filled the air as the machine powered up. She trembled, vague and half formed sensations prickled over her skin. Flashes of white, she couldn’t tell if they were remembered pain or the beginnings of the treatment, flickered behind her squeezed shut eyes. There was no hiding how afraid she was when the mask was pulled away. Snot and tears were running down her face. 

Ryder didn’t know who she was before arriving here, she was no longer that woman, no longer brave or strong. Here and now, she was a broken woman with barely any memories beyond what she retained in between treatments. And now she stood on the precipice of being wiped and erased again, in the name of treatment, seeking a cure she never wanted. 

_Please let me remember, please._

How much of her would be left after this? Would anything be left after the mad man was done? She’d just be an empty shell of a person, hollowed out from the inside. The thought curdled in the pit of her stomach like dread. Before she could voice her protest again, a hard rubber bite guard was shoved into her mouth. 

_Remember her, remember Vetra. Vet—_

The machine screamed and her voice joined it, one earsplitingly high, the other a wordless moan of pure fear and utter terror. 

_Vetra! Vetra!_

Fire leapt from neuron to neuron, burning and searing as it went, snuffing out thought and memory without mercy. 

_Please, please, please._

Jaw clenched so tight, she was sure her teeth had cracked. Her skin pulled taut, light burst behind her squeezed shut eyelids, there was no escape. 

_Remember, remember, remember!_

Vetra’s name was a mantra, she clung onto. But she could feel the name slipping through her fingers, the edges of Vetra’s name singed by the relentless fire. 

_Vetr…_

Her body jerked in its bonds, wrists and ankles rubbed raw. 

_Vet…_

Her pulse surged as her heart slammed itself against her chest, trying to escape this cage her body had become. 

_Ve…_

Tears streamed from her eyes, and she prayed for oblivion

_V…_

The hum winded down. Her muscles twitched without her permission as she lay on the table, wrung out and empty once more. 

_…_

Grief filled her. She ached for something she couldn’t name. The mask replaced the bite guard as she hung onto consciousness like a drowning person. But the moments of rest and quiet were too few and far between. The hum came alive and the cycle began anew once more. 

Again and again and again. 

* * *

“I’m surprised she’s still conscious,” Hopkins said, waving his hand over Ryder’s face. “She’s normally out by this time. Maybe the voltage isn’t high enough.”

“It’s creepy,” Kevin remarked, tightening the straps again. They were worked loose by the previous sessions. “Why wouldn’t you just sedate her? The noises she makes…”

“Difficult to hear?” Hopkins scoffed. “This is unprecedented treatment. And we don’t have strong enough drugs to put her under fully anyway. Plus, she doesn’t remember these treatments. What does it matter?”

Kevin sighed, his voice drifted over from the other side as he worked the straps there. “We don’t have much time left. They are already on Kadara, scanning traffic going in and out of the port.”

“That’s for Alain to figure it out,” came the retort. “My work is here before me. Get the scanner, I want to see if the higher voltages worked. This time I know I’ve got it. I’ve eradicated the plague that’s the AI.”

Something clanked behind Ryder. She couldn’t summon the will to flinch. Breathing and staring at the bright lights overhead with half lidded eyes was the best she could manage. Squeaky wheels creaked and groaned as something heavy was pushed towards her. Dread tightened her throat. 

“Fuck this thing is heavy,” Kevin complained. 

A button was depressed and the machine groaned to life. Scan lights swept over her as she felt a heat gathered over her head. She groaned, but the discomfort was no comparison to the treatments. 

“It’s only a matter of time her crew finds us,” Kevin persisted. 

Hopkins never replied, at least she didn’t hear one. There was a dull beep from the machine and he snarled, “Fuck. It’s still there, still active. I can’t even be sure it isn’t speaking to Ryder.”

She blinked. _Who is Ryder?_

“We have to cut it out of her,” he declared. “That’s the only way.”

“But…”

“No fucking buts,” Hopkins slammed his fist onto a metal tray and the instruments went flying. “I will rid the Pathfinder of the infestation.”

“But you’ll kill her,” Kevin pointed out, his voice desperate. “You just said we do not have the drugs to put her under.”

“Better to die free than be shackled to the whims of an AI.”

Kevin choked back a straggled gasp of shock. “I…”

“There are plenty more who are willing to step up into your shoes. Think carefully.”

Silence filled the air, the tension was so thick even Ryder felt the need to cough. It was muffled by her mask. Her eyes swivelled to cut between Hopkins and Kevin. The table she lay on was the only thing separating them. 

“What will it be?” Hopkins asked, baring his teeth. 

“I’ll… I’ll prep her. What do you need me to do?” Kevin asked, his words crawled out of his throat. 

“Get the extra blood packs and suit up. We can’t anaesthetise her but we can make sure her airway is protected, so that she has the best chance of survival. Intubate her.”

Ryder’s breath hitched. She didn’t understand what was going on, but anxiety climbed up her throat and lodged itself there. Tears formed anew at her eyes. Her mind groped and sought for comfort towards a word, a name she couldn’t find any longer. She’s alone and trapped, there was no way out. 

Alarms blared overhead as red emergency lights took over. Her heart rate monitor died with a pitiful whine and so did the oxygen being delivered to her mask. Both men jumped as one. Hopkins jerked his chin towards the door and Kevin ran out to check it out. Teeth gritted, Hopkins loomed over her. “It seems we’re ran out of time. But better to die free than a slave.”

He started re-attaching the the electrodes to her head again. Ryder twisted and turned but the straps were too tight, they held her fast. A sharp click snapped behind her. There was no telltale hum. Hopkins growled, “No!”

More clicks, more angry curses spilled from his lips. “They cut the fucking power!” 

A relief so sweet swept over her, she could almost laugh. He shoved equipments aside, sending them crashing and banging as switches were flicked and ropes of wires tugged. Then, the hum filled the air again. 

“No,” she mumbled behind the useless mask. It served more to suffocate than to deliver much needed air now. 

Gunfire and shouts rang out from somewhere outside. Her neck strained to look but without windows, there was nothing to see. The door was the only way in and out of this torture chamber. 

_Please, please, please._

Ryder didn’t know what she was praying for, who she was praying to. But she need help and soon. 

Hopkins laughed. It carried the pitch of near hysteria. “We’re back in business, Pathfinder.”

He ripped the mask off her face. Ryder took gulps of air but before she could take her fill the bite guard returned to her mouth. Voices were near now, thumps came from the door as if someone was throwing their body against it. 

_Please, please, please!_

“It will be my parting gift to you, Ryder!” Hopkins snarled. 

The thumping stopped but blue so bright streamed in from the seams of the door. It didn’t blow up but crumpled under a force so great it splintered into a million pieces. 

All Ryder could see was a blue glow around an asari vaguely familiar, her hand was thrust outwards. But more importantly, the turian behind, hard plates barely covered by an under suit ripped to shreds, all bloody and weary. She pushed past the asari and rushed towards her. The pistol in her hand bucking as she fired. 

Hopkins cried out as his body jerked and spun. Bullets finding flesh and bone just as his finger depressed the button. 

“No!” the turian screamed.

Ryder’s eyes met the steel green of the turian’s a split second before lightning searing into her head. And the void welcomed her back with open arms. 

* * *

Consciousness invaded Ryder’s cocoon. Voices echoed in the space. 

“We’re losing her!” one said. “Her heart rate—”

“Don’t say that!” another said. “Get her to Lexi now!”

She shifted away from the light, it was too much. The dimness inside her safe shell was better. 

Her chest ached as a strong force pushed down against her ribs, over and over. Bones cracking, then snapping as a long sharp whine filled her ears. 

A voice, the same one that keened a name over and over, begged. “Come back, please come back.”

“Clear!” 

And pain exploded over her chest. Willing, or not, she was being pulled out of her safe shell. The cocoon got ripped apart even as she struggled against the hands that dragged her towards the light. But sparks flew inside her head, she screamed against the agony. 

Machines screamed and monitors screeched. “What’s happening!” the voice asked. 

“She’s seizing!”

Ice cold and fire hot liquid ran into her arm, through her veins. The sparks faded and the silence returned. Whimpering and crying, she drew her knees to her chest. All she wanted to be was left alone. 

“The assholes ripped into her mind over and over again with the electricty. Even with SAM trying to shield her brain from damage, recording all memories. It’s inevitable their so-called ECT treatment takes a toil of Ryder, physically and mentally.”

The voice moaned, low and mournful, a wordless sound of grief so deep something tugged at her. She shifted uncomfortably in her protective pod, wishing to offer comfort. But she was weary, so drained and exhausted. 

“Will she ever wake?”

“Hopefully,” the other voice said, one she recognised as the doctor’s voice. “The coma is her body’s reaction to the trauma. But our Pathfinder is strong, her vitals bear it out. Her physical wounds are healing and SAM is working to repair the damage done to her brain. But you have to be prepared.”

“That she’ll never wake?”

There was a shift, fabric rubbing against fabric. Perhaps, a nod. “That and Ryder will never be the same person she was. It’s impossible to come through what both of you had gone through unscathed. She may never regain her memories. It might already be too late to reclaim them.”

A low sigh as talons brushed against her arm, a sensation she never knew but craved instinctively. “I know. Deep down I know but… I want to hope. I want to hope Ryder, no Rowan, will come back to me, to us.”

If words were exchanged, she didn't hear them. Her weariness dragged back into the cocoon of inky blackness. Sensations came and went, a buzzing against her hand, a press of something hard and rough against her forehead but done so tenderly. But most of all, there was a keening when her world was silent, when there was naught, but the beeping and hissing of machines. That sound always roused her from her deep slumber. 

Ryder blinked as the keening came again. It was soft and far away, but it woke a restlessness she couldn't explain. It spurred her into motion, to tear through the layers separating her from the sound. Her arms felt empty, like they were meant to hold something, someone. Her chest ached horribly to fill the hole there. But what could fill it, who could fill it, she couldn't say. All she had was the keen to go by. It called and she must answer.

But… her strength failed, it faded. And she returned to the dark. 

Time ceased to have meaning. It was the eternal struggle to reach the source of the sound but constantly being defeated by her lack of strength. Slowly but surely she was making progress. The voices around her seemed to think so. 

“Her finger twitched the other day,” a new voice said, excited and eager. She could imagine the person bouncing on their heels as they spoke. 

“Really?” the familiar one asked, disappointment laced with hope. “She never showed any signs of waking.”

“Lexi said it will be a long process and it’s not always linear,” a third replied, their voice calm and measured. 

“I know. But…” The keen that came from the familiar one sliced through her chest. The monitors behind her beeped in response. 

“Look, Ryder’s pulse rate,” the first pointed out. “It spiked when you keened.”

“Peebee,” the third voice admonished. 

The names were tagged to voices, all information filed away for processing later. _Peebee? Do I know her? She sounds young._

“Look, I know what I saw, Cora,” Peebee retorted. 

_Cora? Who’s that?_

Cora just sighed, long and heavily. “We all know what Ryder went through. It’s…”

“Horrific,” the familiar voice completed. “It goes beyond what anyone can endure. To expect Ryder to wake, to suffer through what must be a rough road of recovery is selfish. Maybe…” Her words faltered, a soft keen came through involuntarily. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

_Ryder… that’s me? My name is Ryder?_

Her chest ached, tugging at shroud that held her back. She fought to go towards the voice. Yanking her feet up and down, working her way through thick and sticky mud that refused to let her go. The monitor spiked. 

“No!” both Cora and Peebee near yelled. 

“You can’t say that,” Peebee protested. “You can’t really mean that.”

The keen came louder now. Leather gloves held her hand, they trembled as something hard pressed against it. _A mouth? A hard plated mouth?_

Tears streamed down Ryder’s face as she screamed with all her might. “Don’t give up on me!” As she tore through the final shreds of her bonds, she tumbled through the blinding white light. But where she landed in wasn’t a bright space, it was dark, almost as if it was a dream within a dream. 

Ryder grunted, the noise was trapped in her throat like it was lodged there. Mouth working opened and closed, she realised there was a hard solid tube in her mouth, running down into her throat. It was uncomfortable and painful. No amount of swallowing would shift it. 

Head turning by inches, she shifted enough to see a human hissing at an asari. She recognised neither. _Cora? Peebee?_ The names floated into her mind, almost as if it was placed there by someone else. 

She blinked hard to clear her vision of the blurry mess of white upon white. Her sheets were white, so were the walls and floor. It reminded her… the thought eluded her. But anxiety climbed up her chest, pressing hard against her ribs. 

Then she felt it, a pressure steady and all encompassing on her arm. A turian pressing her forehead against it. Hot breath tickled her skin, where it was unmarked by white bandages. The turian was whispering prayers between soft keens of despair. 

“Spirits, I know I never was a good turian but please bring her back to me.”

Ryder coughed, the tube irritating her throat. Her body jerked and spasmed as agony woke across her body. The turian leapt to her feet, her eyes wild and wide. 

“She’s awake!” the asari remarked. _Peebee?_

“Fuck! Let’s get Lexi!” the human rushed towards the door with the asari hot on her heels. 

The room was silent after they left. The turian stared at her. Steel green eyes flickering left and right to seek something within her eyes. Ryder knew not what. 

A gloved talon reached up towards her face. But it hesitated, hanging in the air half way towards her. A keen, the same one that called to her, came from the turian. Just like that, the pain fell away, muted and hidden behind a door. She lifted her hand, trembling and sore towards the gloved talon. Fingers fighting to uncurl as she wrapped them around the turian’s. It felt right when she gripped the turian’s hand and dragged it towards her face. The turian whimpered, a sound so high and soft, she couldn’t be sure she heard it. The turian held herself stiff, tension riddled across her face as if she was afraid everything would fall apart if she so much as breathed wrong. Ryder pressed her face against the turian’s hand, eyes sagging shut again, energy spent. 

“No, no, Ryder, please,” the turian begged. “Stay here with me.”

She opened her eyes again, she had to. Her hand went towards the tube, attempting to tug it free. That’s when the human and asari returned with a new person dressed in a white doctor’s coat. The turian turned towards the newcomer. “Lexi, please!”

The doctor spent what felt like hours, checking and scanning before finally declaring that she didn’t need the tube. It couldn’t come out fast enough. When it did, her throat was raw and painful. A mask was prescribed to replace it. Her heart rate spiked when the doctor brought it near, fear rose choking and straggling. The doctor retreated, speaking gently but she couldn’t hear anything beyond the roar of her pulse 

The turian took hold of Ryder’s hand. A calm buzzing sound vibrated the air and up her arm as she held Ryder’s hand against her throat. Ryder couldn’t say why, not with the way dread filled her but it helped. Inch by inch, she breathed a little easier. And though uneasy, she allowed the mask to be pulled over her face. It took a long time but eventually the room was theirs again. 

_Ours? Why?_ She frowned and shook her head, trying to puzzle out the random information lodged into her mind. 

“Ryder,” the turian called. 

She turned to look, feeling ownership of that name but not knowing why. Eyes tracing the purple lines running down the turian’s face. An itch started at the back of her mind. As she tried to focus her thoughts to remember, she stiffened and braced. 

Nothing happened. There was no pain, there was no electricity running through her head. She reached up to touch her scalp tentatively only to be intercepted by the turian. 

Shaking her head, she said, “You had brain surgery, it’s all still a little tender. Don’t touch it.”

Her mandibles flopped open and shut as her eyes bored into Ryder’s. Mouth plates twitching as if words threatened to spill. All the mannerisms and gestures were vaguely familiar. Ryder’s frown deepened as she tried to put a finger on why. 

“Are you in pain?”

She shook her head, instead she stared intently at the turian. The itch intensified. Her lips parted and she rasped, “I know you.”

The turian nodded, swift and hard. “Yes you do, Ryder. You do know me. And the others, we’re all friends, your friends.”

Nostrils flaring, she sighed in frustration. “I… should know you. But…”

The turian’s mandibles sagged, disappointment and sorrow made the proud and tall body turned hunched over and sad. Ryder growled in anger, hands fisted into her sheets. 

“It’s ok,” the turian soothed. “It just takes time.”

“What if I don’t?” she demanded, hand clutching her chest over the loose hospital gown she wore. “I feel something here, but I don’t know what it is. I see you and your name is just at the back of my throat. But I can’t speak it. I can’t even pull it to the tip of my tongue. Who are you to me?” Her hoarse voice trailed off. She squeezed her eyes shut as a lump formed in her throat. 

The turian bowed her head for a moment and reached out, hand shaking but determined. She worked to uncurl the tight fist Ryder had over her heart. “It doesn’t matter. We can do it all over again. I’ll remember for you. I’ll show you.”

Ryder forced her weakened body up, wrapping her arms around the turian. Hard plates and soft flesh shouldn’t fit but they did. There was a spot just for her head to rest against, right between the turian’s neck and chest, her arms finding places to hold, as if they were moulded for her.

And there at the back of her mind, the itch took over. The shape of a name, the sound of a word, the feel of it on her tongue and the overwhelming sense of security, protectiveness and everything else in between filled her. 

“V…” she tried. That wasn’t it but it’s a start. 

The turian tried to pull back, surprised at her stuttering, but she tightening her hold. 

“Ve…” she tried again, it sounded right but incomplete like the vast empty blanks in her memories. 

The turian’s breath hitched. “You don’t have to force it, Rowan.”

She ignored her. The answer was tantalisingly close. “Vet…”

She would claw and drag and fight for every single letter of this name if she had to. Tears streamed down her face as she pressed her eyes against the turian’s shoulder in an awkward half sitting up, half laying down position. 

“Vetr…” the half formed name spilling from her lips in a whine. 

The turian held still, holding her breath. 

“Vetra!” Ryder gasped like a drowning person finding air. The name clicking in her head, fitting into a hole she didn’t knew was there. “Vetra!”

The turian, no Vetra, eased back, she relaxed her hold. Their eyes met, hers brimming with tears of relief, Vetra’s dry but no less swimming with emotions. “You remembered,” Vetra sighed, her voice warbling and unsteady. “You remembered me.”

She dragged Vetra back into her arms, feeling her heart filled with equal parts relief and joy. “I’ll always remember you.”

**Author's Note:**

> All right this is the last Bad Things Happen prompt fill. It has been a long journey filling all 25 squares up. I hope you have enjoyed all these whumpy fics. I'm going to mark the Bad Things Happen series completed. I don't know if I'll request another card and do this again, but if you're just here for the whump, I'll suggest subscribing to that series. If I do this again, I'll be adding fic to that series. 
> 
> Hit me up on my [Tumblr](https://natsora.tumblr.com/). Kudos and comments are always welcome!


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